


The Obstinant Sycophant

by Dlxm950



Series: All The Strange Ways We Love [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Insults, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Poor Life Choices, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlxm950/pseuds/Dlxm950
Summary: During a special trip to Kul Tiras Jaina and Sylvanas discover that distractions can only work for so long.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Series: All The Strange Ways We Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665937
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	The Obstinant Sycophant

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so here's another part of this growing short story.

It was no secret that among the peoples of Azeroth that it was the High Elves of Quel’thalas who hated cold the most. Although hatred may not be a strong enough word to describe just how much they loathed any temperature below forty degrees. So used were they to the warmth provided within the Eversong Woods and the ever-present Sunwell from which they drew their power that even venturing beyond the elf gates was a cause for question. 

Jaina supposed that’s why she enjoyed visiting Kul Tiras. Sure seeing her family was always wonderful, to bask in the catharsis of her mother's arms and the always pleasant task of drinking Tandred under the table, and she would always leap at the opportunity to visit the graves of her father and eldest brother.

But there was just something else about watching Elves suffer in the bitter cold of Boralus Harbour. 

Now she would never wish any harm upon her wife, they may have had their fair share of arguments but her feelings would never stray from anything but absolute and total love, or her sisters in law, she may have taken a small amount of pleasure from watching Alleria and Vereesa shudder and gasp at their first experience with the cold ocean winds, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t greatly enjoy the absolute catastrophe that was watching Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider wither like a prune after a particularly large tide surged over top of him as he stepped out from the portal. But before she could truly appreciate the sight of Kael’thas attempting to appear noble and respected while looking like a drowned cat she was pulled away by a shout. When she turned her face lit up at the sight of her family walking down the long trade dock.

“Jaina!” 

It was barely even a moment before her mother was reaching forward and pulling her in with a bone-crushing hug. It was everything she remembered it to be, warm and comforting in a way no other could hope to replicate, only being interrupted by a light cough beside them. 

Sylvanas was smiling softly as she stepped into a deep bow. It was the epitome of respect and honour in Elven society and just like any good Kul Tiran her mother scoffed at it before pulling Jaina’s wife into a similarly spine cracking hold. At first, Sylvanas released a completely undignified squeak of surprise before heroically struggling to get her mother in law to stop from snapping her spine. 

Eventually, Sylvanas was released but not before her sisters could get a few good jabs in about how the _mighty_ _Ranger General of Quel’thalas_ had been caught off guard by a _hug_. Rather than snap back with a witty remark Sylvanas just moved to stand beside Jaina, making sure to put as much distance between the current Lord Admiral and the prospective one while still being respectful. 

Then, once everyone had calmed and the atmosphere had lightened, the official greetings began.

“Prince Kael’thas of Quel’thalas, High Lord over the city of Silvermoon and most resplendent ambassador of the Sunwell, Kul Tiras greets you and wishes upon you the blessings of the tides.” Her mother began, crossing her arms behind her back and offering a small bow of the head, it was not lost on Jaina just how unhappy Kael was to receive such a ...physical…  _ blessing from the tides _ but he did a good job covering it up. 

His face, which had been twisted into a most vengeful snarl not even a minute before, now forced itself into the most practised of smiles, eager and welcoming in only the same way a shark smiles before it clamps its jaws shut upon an unsuspecting victim. His clothes by that point had been dried by a few of the mages that followed after him, although they still drooped off his lanky frame, wrinkled and ruined from the ocean spray. And when he opened his mouth to reply Jaina could have sworn she saw a fleck of silver upon his tongue.

“Lord Admiral Katherine Proudmoore, Lady of Boralus and Admiral of the High Fleet, Quel’thalas thanks’ you for this most honourable invitation and hopes that the Sunwell shines brightest upon you and your kin.” The prince pronounced to the sky because that was the only possible way of describing the overdramatic flapping of his lips, before dropping into a deep full body bow at the hips. Although unlike Sylvanas there was not one ounce of respect in his action; only a mocking insult hidden behind a convention unfamiliar to all but the elves surrounding him and Jaina herself. 

Jaina could hear Sylvana’s sharp intake of breath beside her and feel the way her Ranger General shook with rage at such a blatant sign of disrespect. For a moment she feared she may have to physically hold her lover back, lest she strike her prince in the face and cause a completely different problem, but before anything could happen her mother acted. 

She took two large steps forwards, her boots like thunder against the wood of the port, to stand right in front of the now fully upright prince. Now less than a foot apart the differences between them were stark. Where Kael’thas stood dainty and elegant, dressed in fine silks and priceless jewels, her mother towered in deep navy leathers and warm woollen underlayers. She stood easily a foot and a half taller than the prince and roughly a foot wider at the shoulders. For a brief moment, Jaina feared her mother would strike the Prince then and there. It was clearly a sentiment shared by the princes’ guards if the way their hands hovered over their scabbards was anything to go by.

For a brief moment, everyone stood, watching, waiting. The elves froze in the realization that the insult had been understood and the humans in fear that they may have to ordain a new Lord Admiral sooner than expected. Luckily though her mother was one of the few people in her family to possess a level head and instead of striking forward with her fist she instead offered the back of her gloved hand to the prince in an obvious motion. For a few more tense moments they all watched, eager to see whether the prince would dare offer a second insult by refusing such a clear demand of respect. Thankfully after the longest minute of their lives, the prince eventually relented. His hands coming up to grasp the underside of the Lord Admiral's hands as he lowered his head before placing a light kiss upon the back of the offered appendage.

The effect was immediate. Everyone on the dock released a breath they hadn’t realized they'd been holding as the situation defused. Katherine held Kael’thas eyes for a few more moments before turning around and starting the long walk up to Proudmoore keep. The other humans, various noble lords and attendants, quickly followed as they came to the startling realization that the greetings were now over and that they, in fact, had jobs they needed to do. Jaina herself quickly leaned down and kissed her wife on the cheek before rushing forward to join her mother at the front. 

It wasn’t actually a particularly long distance from the port to the keep but the winding and repetitive streets made walking through town rather like wandering a corn maze if one didn’t know where they were going. Luckily for her, she had been walking the cobbles beneath her feet for nearly half a century, so with a few shortcuts and clever pathing Jaina found herself at the butchers’ corner (so named for the copious butcher shops that permeated the area) right as her mother turned upon it. 

Her mother's pace was brisk and face brooding as she moved along the cobble path. Various guards around her blocking the nobles from getting too close or attempting to curry favour; a reality for which Jaina had come to appreciate when she and Sylvanas attempted to go shopping in Silvermoon. For her though, there was no effort required to slide into step beside her mother but she soon wished she had chosen to remain with Sylvanas and the elves once the muttering reached her ears. 

“...pretentious twat, thinking himself so clever with his petty insult, he’s lucky I didn't strangle him on the spot…” The words flowed uninterrupted. Spat out with vitriol strong enough to melt through even the most powerful arcane barriers. 

“You’d be surprised just how many times I've had to stop Sylvanas and her sisters from throwing him out a window.” Jaina responded after a particularly nasty comment about shoving a spike somewhere the Sunwell would never find it.

“Oh I can imagine, I’ve barely had to interact with the bugger, I can’t imagine how the two of you do it on a weekly basis.” Her mother jested. 

She was half tempted to tell her the truth but as the prince began to catch up she figured that perhaps telling her mother about a magical earplug spell she had discovered from her students should probably wait. However, what she could not help was the small snigger that escaped her lips as she caught sight of perhaps the most unnatural thing she’d ever seen. 

Now most elves, to spite their seemingly lithe and able bodies, were in fact in terrible physical shape. Only those in the Rangers or other military units seemed to hold any capacity for physical exercise. Many among the public could barely maintain a swift walking pace in the flat markets of Silvermoon for more than a few minutes. When she had first made this discovery she had chalked it up to their magical capabilities, why would they waste time moving when they could just mutter a spell and summon whatever it was they wanted? The absolute epitome of decadence and vanity turned into physical form, as it turned out, seemed to greatly struggle with the uneven cobble paths beneath their feet and constantly increasing elevation to reach their destination.

Kael’thas face was red and sweaty as he stepped up beside them, his breath laboured and steps heavy, muttering something about the capacity to summon arcane carriage. The next few minutes though were probably the most entertaining. As they walked ever closer to the keep the prince would try and step in front of them. Attempting to save face from his previous shaming by seeming to look like he was leading the party but every time he did so her mother would simply increase the pace. So it became a tug of war of sorts, well... as far as a moose could play tug of war against a fly, where the prince would step out in front only to be re-absorbed into the group as her mother began to walk faster. Eventually, it reached the point where the prince was all but running in his attempts to save his pride. 

“Tides, you’d think he’d bugger off with this by now, he’s been jogging for the better part of twenty minutes and looks just about ready to keel over.” Her mother commented as they passed the price dry heaving beside a small shop. 

“I think you underestimate the power of elven pride.” Jaina responded as they watched the prince rush forward once more.

“It’s not their pride I'm questioning.” Was the reply as her mother shot a particularly lecherous grin towards one of the rangers easily keeping pace with the high elven royal. That grin quickly fell to pity as they found the prince practically dead on the ground as he groaned in pain. “Should I take pity on him? They  _ are _ here in celebration of unity between our people…” Her mother asked as they heard the prince release a loud groan before they watched him rush forward once more. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. We wouldn’t want to hurt his elven sensibilities, you might even come across as short-minded.” Jaina responded with a wicked smirk. Her voice light and airy in the most mocking of ways. Her mother released a loud laugh at that as they entered into the shadow of the keep, passing an unconscious Kael’thas on their way into the large stone structure, watching the same poor ranger from before throw the exhausted royal over his shoulder with a sigh. 

* * *

Jainas room was just as Sylvanas remembered it from their original courting. Deep navy walls and rich burgundy carpets, by all elven sensibilities atrocious, but revamped to fit the sensibilities of an adult rather than a youth. Where the bed had once been completely overbearing, bright floral patterns clashing with bright pink pillows, it now felt like any other room, calm and sensible, besides the personal bobbles spread around. A few training staff leaned up against the walls beside an overflowing bookshelf spilling all sorts of scrolls and magical texts. 

It was a room that just screamed her wife’s sensibilities. 

A litany of dead candles on the desk beside even more empty mugs. The last remnant of a long dropped habit. Long nights spent studying for exams or working on papers, warm mornings basking in the light from the window, a nice cup of tea and breakfast in bed.

_ “Come to bed Dalah'Surfal…” She husked at Jaina from the bed. She was an irresistible sight, of this she was certain, her long tan legs loosely covered by light lavender sheets that ran up her body to just barely hide her breasts.  _

_ Which meant, of course, that Jaina wasn’t looking. _

_ Her beloved was hunched over her desk. Long blond hair frazzled with her anxiety, murmuring under her breath as she continued to needlessly edit the already fantastic thesis paper, eyes quick as they scanned over words once more for the thousandth time.  _

_ “In a minute, beloved, just let me finish this…” Jaina responded in a way that denoted that she had clearly not heard Sylvanas at all. _

_ So she waited in bed for a few more minutes before releasing a groan and throwing off the bedsheets she had so intricately laid out for maximum appeal. She shivered as the cool air of the room hit her completely bare skin but she pushed the feeling back and moved towards her lover. She slowly draped herself over her dear ones back, wrapping her arms around Jaina’s neck, lowering her mouth to nip against the pale expanse of skin. Her mage released a hum at her ministrations but continued to work on her paper to spite the distraction.  _

Nothing else had happened that night; she had fallen asleep on her lover's back only to wake up the next morning wrapped in a strong pair of arms with a head nestled against her neck. Nowadays if she fell asleep on her lover's back Jaina was more likely to shrug her onto the desk for the night than carry her to bed. A consequence of their ongoing argument, four hundred years and never before had she ever met someone as stubborn as her wife, a classic Kul Tiran charm she’s sure. 

“You’re thinking.”

She turned her head and was greeted by the image of her wife, resplendent in her full admiralty garb, looking at her with a playful smirk and trouble in her eyes. It was a look she hadn’t seen in a very long time, not since this whole affair about retirement had started, to see her wife so full of mirth. She raised a brow as the words registered in her ears.

“An unusual occurrence from your perspective I am sure.”

Rather than play into the obvious, Jaina stepped forward, grabbing Sylvanas hips to pull her flush against a solid chest, she released a gasp at the motion before she found her lips consumed in the heat of her lovers own. It would have been so easy to fall into those arms, to forget the world, but as she felt a hand reach for the edge of her pant she pulled back. Turning away from her lover's face and stepping away, her ears flattened against her head. 

“I can’t Jaina, not here, not now.” She said, it came out a whisper but in the silence of the room it echoed like a shout.

“What’s wrong Sylvanas? You’ve never been one to shy away from sex as a way to break tension. If I remember right the first thing you ever said to me was how wonderful my ass looked.” Jaina commented and it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Sylvanas whirled around, her entire body shaking with righteous fury, eyes like lightning and teeth bared. 

“And there it is, the reason I can’t do this, that everything is some equation that can be solved. That there is a correct answer for every problem, that our problems are no different from the ones on your desk, sometimes I wonder if you married me for love or because it just made sense!” 

Jaina just furrowed her brow in confusion and frustration. Her head tilted in that way that indicated she was analyzing the problem and attempting to solve it. And it was so infuriating because it was just part of who she was, Sylvanas could beg and plead and thunder, but Jaina would never be able to change those aspects that made her who she was.  _ That _ is why she couldn’t do it because just as Jaina could never stop her mind from asking questions, the military was in Sylvanas’ blood. She breathed it, dreamed it, her entire life's work. 

So why couldn’t Jaina see it? 

Here they were, visiting Jaina’s kingdom, visiting Jaina’s people, all for a celebration that would make Jaina their leader. Jaina was to become everything to her people that Sylvanas embodied in the name of her own  _ and still _ she could not see it. So rather than scream and shout like they always did she stormed past her wife and through the door. She could faintly hear Jaina calling out to her, asking her to stop, and then it faded. Lost to the winding hallways and endless corridors that made up the bulk of Proudmoore keep. 

She passed servants and guards in her storm of pain and fury. Many of them wisely backed away and held their tongues rather than engage. It wasn’t until she was well and truly lost that Sylvanas finally stopped, having found herself in one of the many libraries but the only one that she knew for a fact Jaina had never been in because the books were coated in a fine layer of dust, clearly untouched for many years. With that realization she allowed herself to break. Her tears fell unhindered by social expectation or ridiculous notions that she had to appear strong and impenetrable at all hours of the day. Sobs racked her thin frame, rolling up and down her spine like poison, sapping what little strength she had to spare. Then at last silence, eternal and intolerable silence, the kind of emptiness that made her cringe and wish she had never stormed away in the first place while reminding her at the same time that it was  _ she  _ who called to  _ it _ . 

Sylvanas had no idea how long she was alone, surrounded only by her own self-loathing and anger before that door creaked open. She had half a mind to scream and rage at whoever was daring to break her emotional quarantine but the words died on her lips, lost like the rest of her strength and abilities, leaving only a husk behind. As she watched the person begin to enter she at first feared it to be Jaina, come to try and rationalize and reason with her like she was some form of invalid, but that idea quickly died when the black glove continued on to a deep blue sleeve rather than pearly white. 

Katherine Proudmoore was probably the last person she expected to see, her usually stern features relaxed with a calm reassurance, her form not straight and pert but slouched and open. 

“My guards told me you were making quite the ruckus.” She said aloud, not judgmental though, rather spoken with an understanding that could only come from someone who had felt this pain before. 

Sylvanas wanted to turn and tell her that she had done no such thing, that classic elven stubbornness that demanded that she could not be seen as anything less than elegant, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. Not when her heart was tearing itself in half, pulling her mind and soul in two completely different directions, her soul bleeding out into the world as her mind futaly tried to cover the cracks. She was pulled from the edge by a hand on her shoulder, the comforting touch of a mother attempting to soothe her child, because to spite the fact that she was thousands of years older than the woman behind her she was still just a child at heart. A young woman who had her innocence ripped away when her parents were brutally murdered by the Armani, who had led a brutal campaign in revenge that bordered on genocidal, a person who was always expected to be the supporter, not the supported. 

“What has my daughter done to bring such pain to your face?” Katherine asked softly. 

Sylvanas could feel the tears get worse, because here was this woman offering her the benefit of the doubt, assuming for the first time that it was someone else who had caused the problem instead of her, a rarity for someone of her position. That hand continued to rub soothingly against her back as the sobs faded into tears and then into light hiccups. Then once she had managed to reign in enough of her emotions to appear dignified, a hand gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up enough to allow her mother in law to begin whipping away the makeup tracks. 

“You needn’t tell me anything, the problems between you and Jaina are exactly that, but I implore you to listen. Jaina takes so much after her father, that inherent desire to do good, her broad smile and suave charm. Unfortunately, that seems to be a double-edged sword; that in their attempts to better the bigger picture they forget all the little things that make life worth living. So I once again implore you, be patient, compromise takes time and while it may seem impossible now it  _ will _ come.”

Katherine continued to run her back for a few moments as she let the words sink in before quietly standing and maneuvering out of the room. Sylvanas for her part found her mind consumed by the words. Perhaps she had been too rash, in all the confusion of Jaina’s ceremony and her own chaotic thoughts she had let her emotions best her, and she had done so at Jaina’s expense. With that thought, all of that rage, that hurt and anger, melted away into shame and regret. Her tears and hiccups changed into an aura of melancholy and disappointment. 

Perhaps it was time they had a proper discussion. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome, just try and keep it respectful.


End file.
